


Rewrite Our Stars.

by BGee93



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Break Up, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Some Fluff, mentioned smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BGee93/pseuds/BGee93
Summary: You know I want youIt's not a secret I try to hideI know you want meSo don't keep saying our hands are tiedYou claim it's not in the cardsFate is pulling you miles awayAnd out of reach from meBut you're here in my heartSo who can stop me if I decideThat you're my destiny?





	Rewrite Our Stars.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Finnthebunneh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnthebunneh/gifts).



> Please forgive me babe, I'll edit this out and make it longer for you soon < 3
> 
> Unedited. I'm not dead just on a long hiatus.

He watches Keiji rub his thumb along the skin just inside his right wrist from the corner of his eye. It’s where his constellation tattoo is. The one unique to just him and who he’s, supposedly, meant to be with. Koutarou has never put too much thought into soulmates. At least he hasn’t since the day he met Keiji. Somehow he’s known that aside from their tattoo’s not matching, a feat that took months to check with subtle glances in the locker room so Keiji wouldn’t know, he’s still in love with the raven haired man. He always will be.

If only he could convince him of that.

Koutarou confessed to Keiji a week before Keiji graduated. They were going to be in the same college, on the same team thanks to both receiving a full scholarship. And Koutarou had decided that he simply couldn’t go through another few years of not knowing where they stood. 

If he’s being honest, he thought the whole thing would have gone far different than it had. Keiji had backed away from him, head shaking so hard his curls flicked across his forehead and ears. A soft no the only answer he’d gotten before Keiji’s face deepened into a dark crimson as his usually indifferent mask fell. Words tumbled out of Keiji’s mouth as he brokenly stated they couldn’t do this, that Koutarou shouldn’t have said anything. But the only words Koutarou had stuck to remembering fully are-

‘I feel the same but’-

They imprinted so deeply into his mind that even seven years later, he refuses to give up. Behind closed doors, Keiji’s masks slips a little more each time. He’s sure that if he keeps going, even if it takes ten more years and his resulting to drastic measures, which Kuroo says he needs to do sooner than later, Keiji’s denial will falter. Once it does Keiji will let him into his life fully. 

Definitely.

Hopefully.

Maybe…

Kuroo nudges him out of his thoughts and shoots a look at Keiji before looking back and him. It takes Kuroo sighing, repeating the action six more times, before he clues in that Kuroo is signalling for him to make a move already. 

Puffing his chest up he nods jerkily before turning to look over at him. Keiji eyes them both suspiciously which draws a chuckle out of Kuroo before he pulls out his phone and leans into the side of the couch away from them. It’s Kuroo’s way of giving him a bit of privacy to do something which leaves Koutarou grinning. 

Keiji flicks a brow up before rolling his eyes and glancing back towards the show on T.V.. Koutarou doesn’t really know what they’re watching. Some documentary that Kuroo and Keiji wanted to see. Yet neither one of them seem to be actually watching it. Man they’re weird…

Leaning into Keiji’s side slowly, carefully, Koutarou leans in to rub the tip of his nose across the shell of Keiji’s ear. Smirking wickedly when the younger man visibly shivers before pressing his shoulder against his face to stop him. Huffing Koutarou leans back a bit but drops his voice into a whisper.

At least his version of a whisper as Kuroo hears every word as if it was being spoken into his ear instead of Keiji’s.

It’s the same words, the same feeling and the same old situation Keiji has been avoiding since they met. Koutarou leans into his side. The warmth seeping through the layers between them, scorching Keiji’s skin everywhere they touch. Koutarou’s head gently nuzzles against his. A clear sign of the affection he feels for him.

Yet it’s so, so wrong.

Because it feels too good.

They’re not meant to be. The constellation tattoo, a unique galactic design that can only be matched to ones soulmate, or soulmates, on their inner wrist do not match. They know that. He knows that. It had been one of the first things he’d checked soon after meeting the damn owl. He’d also taken pity on Koutarou’s glaringly obvious glances at his wrist and began showing his own mark off whenever he caught the other looking. Yet despite that, Keiji’s feelings for the other have only grown. He lives each and every day in his own internal damnation. 

All he wants to do is give in to the itch deep within himself. To lean back against Koutarou, wrap himself up in the heat. To take everything the other has been offering for years selfishly. To scream at the top of his lungs for the consequences to go to hell. It’s what he knows Koutarou has wanted him to do since he confessed right before Keiji’s graduation. 

But he can’t.

Just the idea that he’d be taking someone elses happiness, their life, their soulmate from them is too much. The times he’s almost, almost, given in has been utterly destroyed by the weight of it. Just like it is now.

Shuffling his weight to the side Keiji casually inches a fraction of space between them. Their limbs still bump and brush together, but Koutarou’s weight is no longer pressing. It’s silly, Keiji knows, but he swears the side they’d been touching is now ice cold. 

His thumb brushes over his wrist, over the dull, faded tattoo on his right wrist. Whoever they are, his soulmate, their tattoo will be on the left. He vaguely wonders about them. But, as usual since meeting the one next to him, it’s just a fleeting second of a thought before his mind is focused back onto Koutarou.

He’s deflated a bit in his seat. Keiji knows it’s because of him. Because he moved away. Koutarou’s usually bright eyes have simmered into a dark yellow. They flick over to him, run over his face, searching, before turning back to the T.V.. Keiji wants to reach out. To run his fingers through the mess of black and grey, rub at the blissfully warm skin of Kou’s scalp until the older man is practically purring and leaning against him again. His fingertips twitch against his wrist in want. Instead he fists his hands and looks away. Any other day, if they were alone, he’d allow the interaction. Convincing himself that the small comfort of it is harmless enough, even if he knows that’s not true.

But Kuroo is right there.

And so Keiji denies himself once again.

When Koutarou sighs heavily, leaning into Kuroo instead, who doesn’t even think twice before wrapping and arm around his best friend and drawing him into a cuddle, Keiji bites back a pitiful sob. A lumb works its way up his throat and he tries to swallow against it but it burns and aches so much tears well up in his eyes. Sniffing back quickly he stands up as casually as he can and walks in the direction of the kitchen. 

Quickly turning on the tap as if he was getting a glass of water Keiji lets out a soft cry that he hopes is drowned out by the rushing hiss of the tap. Shakily breathing in and out he squeezes his eyes shut as he leans over the counter, his forehead touching the cool surface of a low hanging counter where the plates are located. Sniffling back another noise he pants through the pain in his chest. A hand bunches into the from of his tank top. A few stray tears slip down his cheeks and neck as he fights to regain control of himself.

The words of society, of what is expected with the responsibility of soulmates chant through his mind.

‘Not all are romantic, but each soulmate deserves the chance to be romantic.’

‘It’s selfish to allow yourself to fall in love before meeting your own soulmate.’

‘Loving or letting someone else love you before you meet your soulmate is basically cheating.’

He runs through every moment, ever word, every single saying and gossip he can remember as he calms himself. Steeling his face and hardening his feelings again until he feels himself become his calm, collected, deadpanned self again. Furiously wiping away the salty mess of his cheeks Keiji blinks away the remaining wetness. Breathing in deeply he releases a steady, soft breath. Turning off the tap he sniffs back the bit of snot that collected in his nose before deciding he’s good to return to the living room. 

He doesn’t make it back to the room. 

In the distance he hears the faint sound of the front door closing just before he collides with Koutarou’s chest. His lips part in question or shock, maybe both, but any sound is cut off as Koutarou’s lips collide with his. 

Keiji gasps into it, eyes flashing open wide as every nerve in his body freezes before flaring to life. His chest bursts with light. Skin tingles as if sparks are igniting beneath it. Before he can stop it his hands are gripping tightly into the material of Koutarou’s shirt. One of his favorite ones, the obnoxious pink one with a dumb saying on it. 

A whine manages to slip from his throat as Koutarou slows. His lips molding over Keiji’s instead of the flurry of teeth and spit it had been just seconds ago. Shaky hands slide up his arms. No… Not just shaky hands. Koutarou is shaking, Keiji can feel the small vibrations as they’re pressed together more firmly. Keiji’s back hits a wall. Yet he doesn’t feel trapped.

Koutarou pulls away with a soft pop. They’re still close enough that their lips nudge gently together as Koutarou speaks. His voice is unbelievably low, barely a whisper. Keiji’s never heard him speak so softly before. Ever. It drags another gasp from him. The hot whisp of it ghosts over Koutarou’s lips causing him to shudder against Keiji. It takes Keiji several moments to clue in that he’s being asked a question. Through Koutarou’s uttered words that make no sense and the way Koutarou is holding him. Close yet far enough away that all it would take is Keiji to deny him, again, and he’d step back without question.

Keiji closes his eyes and mouth, pants through his nose. Koutarou stops. Stops moving, stops talking. It’s the longest Keiji has ever made him wait, for anything, and the suspense is nearly killing him. He feels deep within his own soul that there is a huge part of Keiji that is screaming to stop him. That part always suffocating the small, but growing, piece of him that wants to say screw it and give into Koutarou. Give in to what he wants. Koutarou prays through the silence that this time, this time, that tiny piece will win…

Keiji surprises him. Keiji finally gives in.

He catches the Koutarou off guard when his eyes snap open just as his hands, still fisted in his shirt, yank him forward into a searing kiss. Their lips contrast their movements. Slow, deep, filled with all the denied feelings for each other. Their hands yank and grasp and tug at each other desperately. The need to be skin to skin undeniable now that the last string of self control has been snapped. The sound of their frenzy drowns out the gasps and sighs they release between messy kisses.

Pressing himself into Koutarou’s chest Keiji forces himself away from the wall. He tries to back Koutarou up, in the direction of his bedroom, but Koutarou has a different idea. Sliding down, running his chest down the others, Koutarou grips Keiji’s thighs and hoists him up without warning. Keiji scrambles to hold on, his nails digging into Koutarou’s flesh as his thighs tighten around Koutarou’s hips. Ankles quickly locking together as Koutarou doesn’t wait before he starts walking.

A curse passes Keiji’s lips as he comes back into reality enough to fully acknowledge that their shirts are laying in hall. He can see them tossed to the floor over Koutarou’s shoulder. It’s then that he sees what appears to be Koutarou’s sweatpants next to his tank top and the lewdest moan he’s ever managed vibrates in this throat. His eyes flutter shut as he buries his nose into the soft skin just behind Koutarou’s ear, breathing in the scent of his aftershave until it hits the very bottom of his lungs.

Koutarou practically sprints into Keiji’s room. His pace too fast to fully stop before his knees his the mattress and prevent them from tilting forward.

They fall onto the bed in mess of flailing limbs and huffs as the air is knocked out of them. Keiji smacks Koutarou upside the head as he coughs, hands pushing Koutarou back so he can draw oxygen back into his lungs. Koutarou is also coughing but his breaths are more hindered by his joyous laughing. His broad chest shakes against Keiji’s. 

There’s a bubbling happiness in the pit of his stomach, but he convinces himself it’s actually coming from his soul. Koutarou smiles down at Keiji and Keiji offers up his own blinding grin. It causes Koutarou’s heart to skip and soar. Keiji rarely smiles. For anyone. His own mother claims she can count on one hand how many times she’s seen a full blown smile like the one he’s gracing Koutarou with now. The warmth building up in his heart swells, spills over until it’s flowing through his veins.

He wants to speak but the words are caught in his throat. Keiji seems to understand, like he always does, and he places a hand over Koutarou’s mouth. A slow shake of his head as he stares into Keiji’s eyes, they glow bright and alive under the light in a way he’s only seen when they’re on the court together. Choosing to let his actions speak for him he slows down their desperate pace.

Convinced that now that he finally has Keiji in his arms, ready and willing to accept that their fates are meant to be, they have all the time in the world. Oh how foolish they both were.

People say there’s a ‘honeymoon’ period for new couples. Where it seems like nothing could be better and absolutely nothing can possibly go wrong. Keiji stupidly let himself fall into this cliche. Their honeymoon lasted three months.

Three blissful months that Keiji will look back on with a mix of heartache, longing and disappointment.The disappointment aimed at himself for allowing himself to slip and fall so freely.

Koutarou knocks on his door at 1am. Head and shoulders drooping, hair cascading down over his face. Keiji doesn’t bother asking if he wants to come in from the hallway. He already knows. It’s written all over the person in front of him. It’s in his body language, his aura, his very being. It’s seeping from his pores like a venom and Keiji breathes it into himself deeply. Uses it to kill his nerves and feelings before speaking up himself.

“You met them,” 

He doesn’t bother forming it like a question. They both know it’s a fact, a statement of the obvious. It had only been a matter of time after all. They were foolish to try to deny or delay the inevitable. 

Koutarou flinches as if struck. But he sniffles, finally raising his head so their eyes can meet. His eyes are dark, watery, nearly lifeless as he spits out a choked yes. Keiji sucks in a quick gush of air before doing what he should have done years ago.

He closes the door, firmly locks it, and walks back to his bedroom without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the song Rewrite The Stars: Spotify; https://open.spotify.com/track/65fpYBrI8o2cfrwf2US4gq?si=QFSrSNBYSAuRNsAPNrRW1A  
> Youtube; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RI-HOQ27QEM


End file.
